


Tears of an Angel

by noxsoulmate



Series: noxsoulmate's FicFacer$ [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mutual Pining, Nearly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Pining, Prompt Fic, ficfacer$, star tear disease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26757967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxsoulmate/pseuds/noxsoulmate
Summary: Tears are words too painful for a broken heart to speak.When Draco is befallen by a mysterious disease, a race against the clock starts for his friends. No-one has ever heard of any curse or poison that causes the affected to cry star-like tears. Tears that not only hurt but might very well kill him. An option Harry will do everything in his power to prevent.When Dean gets a distressing message from his friends back in England, his first instinct is to reach out to Cas. Only, Cas is an angel no longer. And he has been radio-silent ever since Dean had kicked him out of the bunker. However, with Draco’s life at stake, he really needs to double his efforts to find him. Cas might not be an angel anymore, but maybe he could still help.Besides, there is this feeling growing within Dean. A feeling that says something might not be right with his best friend either...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: noxsoulmate's FicFacer$ [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949209
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17
Collections: FicFacer$ 2020, HN Siriusly Amazing Writing Challenge





	Tears of an Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bumping_Bees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumping_Bees/gifts).



> Welcome to my third fic for the amazing FicFacer$ Auction (read more about it [here](https://www.juliahouston.com/fic-facers/) or in my series description). This slot was won by my dearest friend [Bumping_Bees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumping_Bees) 💖 when they heard I was up for auction, they rushed to gather a spot, even though I told them it wasn’t necessary, I would gladly write them a fic like that. But they wanted to support the good cause and me and for that, I love them even more 💕
> 
>  **Original Prompt**  
>  Since Bumping_Bees is the biggest Drarry shipper I know I simply had to write my friend a story with them, even though the auction is run by the SPN fandom. The best solution: a crossover 😁 aside from the wish of the star tear disease trope (you’ll find pictures of the original prompt in the endnotes), they left everything else up to me, and for that trust, I love you so much 😘 I really hope you’ll like what I came up with.  
> Hope you all enjoy this crossover 💕
> 
>  **Regarding the canon timelines**  
>  This story is set in May/June of 2013, so all the boys are in their early to mid-thirties… except for Cas, of course. Cas is ancient but still hot 😉
> 
>  _SPN Universe:_ We’re in early season 9. Cas has lost his grace and Metatron used it to close the gates of Heaven. Dean allowed the angel Ezekiel (Gadreel) to possess Sam to heal him. Dean and Sam just saved Cas from the reaper April - but now Dean is kicking Cas out of the bunker (this is where the fic starts)  
>  _HP Universe:_ Forget about the epilogue and about CC - everything else should be in the fic.  
> 
> 
> **DeanCas Bingo Card**  
>  _square filled:_ G5 "Mutual Pining"  
> 

**Prologue**

_An illness born of unrequited love, tears from an angel’s broken heart shall resemble the stars they live amongst._

Castiel knew the exact moment his heart shattered into pieces. Knew the exact moment the disease took root in him. 

_“You can’t stay.”_

He would never forget these words.

Would never forget how Dean looked at him in that moment. Eyes unreadable. Jaw set.

Never forget the feeling of losing _everything_.

_Creatures of Heaven were never meant to feel true love, their greatest devotion was meant for God, and if their illicit love is not returned, they shall never feel it – or anything – again._

They hadn’t even returned to the bunker for long. Sam and Dean… they had _just_ saved him from nearly dying at the hand of that reaper; April, who had deceived him in every way imaginable.

He had been such a fool to trust her. 

He should have gone back to them right away. Let the Winchesters show him how to deal with being a human. Instead, he had almost been killed… all because he hadn’t wanted to bother the brothers.

But when they had taken him back to the bunker… somehow, somewhere deep inside… he had let himself hope. That, well, maybe that they cared enough to let him stay. With them. That they wanted him around, even now, when he was closer to human for all intents and purposes. Even now, when he wasn’t angel enough to help them anymore, his grace nearly drained.

And at first, it had seemed that way.

Until Dean had said they needed to talk. Until Dean had said the words that broke his heart.

_“You can’t stay.”_

Just like that. No explanation, no reasoning why. Just three words.

Three words that were more powerful than Dean could ever know. 

Three words that would see to the destruction of the last of Cas’ grace.

Three little words that would destroy him.

Three words that meant there was no place for him in Dean’s life. Not if he was as useless as a human.

With Dean’s words still ringing in his ears, all he could do was leave the bunker before the first tear fell - Dean might never love him back, but that didn’t mean Cas wanted the man he loved to watch him die.

_Though beautiful to witness, the twinkling, crystalline tears will slowly fall until the last drop of grace has leaked from their eyes..._

The first tear fell before he had finished closing the door behind him, carrying nothing more but the clothes on his back and a few measly belongings in a limp bag.

He had only ever heard the stories – told in whispers amongst angels – about the star-like tears. About the grace bleeding from their very core. Had heard the legends of how beautiful it was.

But witnessing it himself held such beauty that he was caught speechless for a moment. He could feel the pain, knew he would not be able to fight this for long. But by God, if he had to die, he would die crying tears of such magnificent beauty. Bright sparkling tears that reminded him so much of the soul of the man he loved.

A soul he could no longer see.

He had fallen. In every way imaginable.

Just as Hester had once told him.

He had fallen from God, from Heaven, from grace, from mercy.

But most importantly, he had fallen in love – with a human who would never love him back. With Dean Winchester.

Castiel had always known that. Deep down, he had known, Dean couldn’t love him. But a tiny shred of hope grew with every look Dean gave him, with every smile he sent Cas’ way. With every laugh they shared.

With every prayer he sent him, with every feeling of longing…

It had kept the disease from sinking its hooks into him.

But Castiel could not hold it at bay any longer.

He could not see Dean’s soul, could not be in his presence, nor hear his prayers, or sense his longing. No longer could he fool his very breakable heart. The disease had finally set in. Feasting on those last shreds of grace.

But, ultimately, that would be a mercy.

Because first, the disease would make him colourblind - and he wouldn’t want to live in a world where he could not see the green of Dean’s eyes any longer.

Then, it would take his sight fully.

Once the last ounce of grace was bled out, he would die - and what a mercy that would be, for he couldn’t live in a world in which Dean Winchester never loved him back.

Gripping his bag tight, Cas set off in the direction of the closest town. He wouldn’t have to go far – just far enough to find a place to live out the last of his numbered days.

A place where he could lay down and cry and remember the man he loved…

He wondered how many days he had. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**Chapter 1**

Draco’s finger was tapping against the cup of tea in front of him, the only outward indicator of his distress. If it hadn’t been for his strict upbringing, he would have jiggled his leg as well.

But Malfoy’s did not _jiggle_.

Taking a sip from the cup, Draco tried to calm his nerves. 

Honestly, what reason did he have to be _this_ nervous? It was just a regular lunch meeting with his former partner.

 _Work_ partner! He reminded himself unnecessarily. And he had plenty of reasons. Well, one reason.

The point was, this was nothing unusual. Back when they were both young Aurors – fresh out of training and thrown together as partners – they would get lunch together almost daily. And even with the new work dynamic – with Harry’s promotion to Head Auror – they often made time to sit together at this café and enjoy a quiet hour, away from the ministry and their offices.

So really, why was he nervous?

Possibly because he had finally come to a decision.

“Hey, Draco. Sorry for being late.”

Years of training and life as an Auror were probably the only reason Draco didn’t jump out of his skin as a warm hand landed on his shoulder, tightening briefly before leaving too quickly for his liking. Only a lingering trace of warmth left in its wake. A second later, Harry Potter plopped down in the seat across from him, still rambling on.

“Blackthorn just wouldn’t shut up and that meeting dragged on and on and– oh, you already ordered for me, brilliant, cheers.”

“Of course,” Draco replied, corner of his lips tucking into a smile - which quickly, he hid behind his trademark smirk. “I know you well enough, after all, Mr Sorry-the-meeting-ran-late.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

To his credit, Harry actually sounded offended – and if it hadn’t been for the grin on his face Draco would have almost believed him.

Shrugging, Draco took another sip of his tea before he set the cup down. “Just that we would hardly get any warm food if I were to wait for you until I ordered.”

Still grinning, Harry made a poor attempt at a glare before taking a bite of his favorite pasta dish. Chuckling, Draco let the topic rest and enjoyed his own food. Their conversation stayed on lighter topics, far from anything heavy or work-related. They had enough time to do that while at the office – they didn’t need to do it during their short lunch break as well.

“So, have you thought about Junior Quidditch again? Scorp would love it. You know James does.”

“Yes, well, as we have established before, Potter, your son is two years older than mine.”

“So? Scorp is seven, he’s not a baby anymore. And you know he loves the game. Or do I need to remind you about the last family day at the Burrow?”

“Of course he loves the game,” Draco said, not even trying to stop his eye roll. “And before you start, yes, I know he has talent.”

“Then what–”

“Just no, okay?”

The fork with Harry’s pasta stopped midway to his mouth and Draco found himself at the receiving end of one of Potter’s famous squints. The one that seemed to bore into your soul while Harry tried to figure out what was going on.

Draco couldn’t help himself, he had to look away.

He had a hard time functioning around Harry on a normal day. It was even worse when he was scrutinising him.

Especially today. Especially after his recent decision.

Checking his watch, Draco realised he didn’t have much time left if he wanted to man up and finally ask Harry what he wanted. Before he could, however, Harry spoke again.

“Wait, is this _still_ about your last name?”

Flinching, Draco was too caught off guard to school his features in time.

“Merlin, it _is_ about your last name!”

“Will you please keep it down?” he begged, knowing already that it was to no avail.

Harry never stayed quiet when he thought Draco was being irrational.

“Draco, it has been _fifteen_ years. Fifteen! In case you forgot, we were at that damn End-of-the-War-Gala just a few weeks ago.”

Oh, as if he could ever forget _that_ night.

“Don’t you think it’s time to let the past go? Because I can tell you, most people have–”

“Yes, Harry, exactly. _Most_! Not all. Yes, it might have been fifteen years – but my name will _forever_ be entwined with death and darkness. Do you really think I want my _son_ to be confronted by it already? Can he not have a peaceful, happy childhood untainted by all that?”

This really wasn’t how he had pictured their afternoon. Not at all.

Taking a deep breath, he tried not to let Harry’s softening gaze get to him.

“You know you can’t keep him from it forever…”

“Yes, but I can die trying,” Draco replied petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry’s gaze turned even softer.

Fuck, there was just something about him that tore at Draco’s defenses.

Something about the way Harry would watch him sometimes.

How he would find his eyes on him, his gaze almost glued to his.

“You also know James would be there to protect him. Scorp is like the little brother he never had.”

Sometimes, Draco wondered if Harry even knew what he was doing to him with comments like these or those intense looks. If he knew what he did when he would randomly touch his shoulder or tease him for one of his ingrained and uptight habits. Sometimes, he really wondered if Harry _could_ be that oblivious.

And then there were times – like the gala a few weeks ago – when he was _sure_ that Harry not only _knew_ of Draco’s feelings but where he might even return them.

Their relationship had never been the easiest and it had started off in the worst way imaginable. But somehow, they had made their way from schoolyard nemesis and war adversaries to partners in the Auror department to… well, friends. 

At least that’s what they were now. He might even say best friends, ever since Weasley had followed Pansy to France. Sure, they still talked, but if Draco wasn’t mistaken, it wasn’t as close a bond as it used to be. It was one of those friendships now that rekindled whenever they saw the other and they would talk about the old days and what they were up to now. But they no longer shared the day to day intricacies and observations. They were not as close as Draco and Harry were now.

Of course, there was still Hermione to compete with, but considering she was rather like a sister to Harry, Draco was sure he could claim the position of ‘best friend’.

If only that was enough for him.

It had been for many years. When they had first partnered together, they had still held many of the resentments and these lunches away from the ministry were their way of working through them. Of trying to find common ground. 

They had been there for each other through many things since then. Draco’s marriage, Harry’s marriage. The birth of both their children. Harry’s divorce. Astoria’s death. Weasley leaving England. Harry’s promotion. All these things had come and gone and yet they still met for lunch. 

They were still the one constant in each other's lives. 

Briefly, he thought of his late wife. Astoria. While he hadn’t _loved_ her… he had held her in high respect and with genuine affection. Marrying her… it had seemed like the right thing to do. His family certainly didn’t need any further drama. So going along with the plans made for them when they were still kids… It seemed a logical way of restoring his family name. He knew he hadn’t been the love of Astoria’s life either. But they had been good friends, and they had both known they could have fared far worse when it came to these sorts of things.

It had been a good few years. Years Draco wouldn’t want to change for anything, and not just because it had brought Scorpius into this world. No, he was glad for the companion he had found in Astoria.

He missed her, every day he missed her. Missed her wit, her charm. Her easy companionship. What they had may not have been true, romantic love. But it had been strong, and real. And he had been by her side throughout every stage of her illness. She hadn’t died alone and unloved in some horror of a marriage. For that, Draco was thankful. And it gave him some consolation throughout his grief.

It had been three years since then.

Harry’s marriage, on the other hand, had ended sooner and in a far less dramatic way. Realising they weren’t fit for each other as spouses when a second suspected pregnancy proved false, Ginny and Harry had parted in friendship. Harry had confided in him once that while neither of them regretted having James, they had both been relieved when the second pregnancy didn’t take. What had followed were a lot of honest talks and long discussions. Not once had they raised their voices or fought over anything, and Draco privately thought that said something, considering their marriage consisted of hot-headed Gryffindors.

In the end, Harry had moved into another part of the house they shared and to this day, they lived together, nothing more than friendship between them.

It might seem strange to some people, but it worked for them.

Draco had asked Scorpius about it once. If it was weird for him at the Potter’s now and how James was coping. But Scorpius had told him it was like nothing had changed. Except now Ginny seemed to nag Harry less about leaving his towel on the floor of their bathroom. A common argument before, as Scorpius assured him. He and James still played all the games together and that was really all Scorpius cared about.

Taking a deep breath, Draco pulled himself out of all his thoughts, finally allowing a nod in answer to Harry’s comment.

“I know that. I’ll think about it some more.”

“You’re just saying that so I’ll shut up, right?”

The grin Harry gave him made his heart flutter and he couldn’t help the small smile that tucked itself into the corner of his mouth. It was amazing how well Harry had come to know him and his deflecting tactics.

“Maybe,” he admitted, taking another sip of his now cold tea. Grimacing, he murmured a quick spell and then took another sip. Better. Not perfect, warming charms never were, but better.

When he looked back at Harry, he was still smiling, still watching him.

It was one of these gazes that made Draco believe that maybe – _maybe –_ his feelings for Harry weren’t as one-sided as he had always told himself. With both wives out of the picture, one way or another, and Harry and his friendship drawing closer, a flame had ignited within him and steadily grown. There were times where he told himself he was imagining things – and then there were times where his heart just wouldn’t shut up and he was sure, so damn sure, that Harry felt it too.

But the tipping point had been the gala… 

Ever since, he had been unable to keep his feelings for Harry in check. Or his hope that they might be reciprocated.

Which was why he had to finally take a chance. Right now.

After all, he had promised himself to ask Harry on a date today.

“Listen, Harry-”

“Oh no, what did I do?”

“What?” Draco replied, unable to make sense of Harry’s interjection.

Harry chuckled. “You never call me Harry unless it’s something serious. So what’s up?”

“Potter, will you please shut up,” Draco said, despite the smile Harry’s words coaxed out of him. “Listen, I… well, there is something I wanted to ask yo-”

“Oh, hey, Harry!”

The voice that interrupted him was one he really didn’t want to hear. However, what he hated more was how Harry’s eyes lit up as his gaze fell on her.

Cho Chang.

“Cho, hey. What a coincidence.”

“It really is. Oh, hullo, Malfoy,” she added in greeting, voice momentarily losing some of its lightness. It was back quickly as soon as her gaze returned to Harry. “I’m meeting with a friend, so I don’t have time to chat. But… we’re still on for tonight, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry replied and the smile he sent her caused Draco’s stomach to turn.

Cho’s smile in return was equally sweet. “Great! Can’t wait for our date.”

As she passed them by, her hand touched Harry’s shoulder, lingering there for a second too long, and then brushed along his robe-clad shoulder blade. Rationally, Draco knew he was probably imagining things. But the pit in his stomach and the icy fist around his heart convinced him differently.

Especially when Harry turned his head to gaze after their former schoolmate. When he turned back around, he had a lingering smile on his face.

“Sorry for that. You were saying?”

“You’re going on a date with Cho Chang?” Draco asked, instead of continuing with his former topic.

“Erm…” 

If Draco wasn’t mistaken, Harry’s cheeks got somewhat of a rosy tinge to them.

“Maybe? I don’t know,” he admitted, chuckling at himself. “I mean, we haven’t seen each other in years, but you remember that we met at the gala?”

Oh yes, he _remembered_!

“And we’ve been in contact since then, couple of owls… I dunno. We’re planning on going to a pub tonight? Catching up some more? I mean, maybe it’s a date. I don’t know, she didn’t _say_ date until now.”

Harry was nervous. He was nervous and Draco could easily tell by the way he was rambling.

This _was_ a date.

With his schoolboy crush.

With the girl he had pined over for at least a year during school, if not longer.

Draco was going to be sick.

Because if Harry could so easily go on a date with someone else… clearly it meant he had no feelings for him, right? It meant that Draco had simply imagined everything. Every look, every smile, every teasing comment he had thought to be flirty.

It had all just been in his head.

The tight fist around his heart squeezed harder.

“Draco, hey, you listening?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you’re alright,” Harry said again and only now did Draco realise that his friend had leant forward, looking at him with concern in his eyes. “You’ve gone pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine,” Draco pressed out, even though he could feel the cold sweat forming on his head. Was it possible he was coming down with something? 

“You sure? You don’t look it.”

“Are you saying I look bad?” he tried to tease back - but given that his voice gave out on the last word, he was sure he hadn’t convinced Harry in the slightest. “Anyway, where were we?”

“Draco, Merlin, I can literally _see_ you losing colour. What’s happening?”

Before he could stop him, Harry’s hand was on his forehead in the typical gesture of feeling for someone’s temperature.

The touch was somehow burning him, the gesture so tender and full of feeling – one of those he would usually read way too much into but now had to admit was what any close friend would do.

Realising that… it felt like the fist around his heart squeezed one final time, shattering it into pieces.

Carefully knocking aside Harry’s hand, Draco stood.

“Sorry, Potter. You might be right. Might be coming down with something.”

“Want me to apparate you home?”

“No,” he exclaimed, head spinning. “No, I’m fine. I’ll just use a fireplace.”

“Alright. Want me to pick up Scorp tonight?”

There was a ringing in his ears and somehow, the light was suddenly too bright. The noises too loud. 

“Ehm, no,” he replied, using every ounce of willpower to get the words out in a clear sentence. “No, I’ll just… I’ll call my mother.”

“Draco, you really shouldn’t go alone–”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he pressed out through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the back of the chair – he hadn’t even noticed gripping it in the first place! “If you’ll excuse me.”

Not waiting for a reply, Draco turned around and left the café, loosening the tight knot of his tie before he had even made it onto the street. Somehow, it felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

Pulling himself together, he walked briskly toward the next shop with an open floo network, hardly noticing the act of itself, realisation only dawning the moment his knees hit the hardwood floor of his own lounge room.

“What, in Salazar’s name…” he mumbled, stumbling towards his kitchen and his stash of potion ingredients, quickly searching for – and then swallowing – a bezoar.

Giving it a moment to set in he noticed… nothing. There was absolutely no change. At least he knew he wasn’t poisoned. Perhaps something he had eaten then? 

Still contemplating if he should take some potion to make himself throw up, he was momentarily distracted by his cell phone notifying him of a new text. Pulling the device out of his back pocket, he saw a new message from Harry.

_[Harry] Hope you made it home alright. Tell me if you need anything! And let me know how you’re doing._

He was glad he was alone because even though he rarely cried – could count on three fingers in fact – Draco could feel the tears welling up in this very moment. Why? Why, oh why had he thought it was a good idea to hope that Harry might love him back? What had ever given him that impression? He clearly cared about Draco – but Harry cared about all his friends. It was just–

A burning pain on his cheeks halted any train of thought.

An agonized scream ripped from his lungs and a moment later, Draco found himself on the ground again, clutching his face, his phone hitting the ground right next to him.

He could feel the wetness of tears streaming down his face and the longer the pain went on, the more he realised… it came from the tears! Scrambling to his feet, he heaved himself to the bathroom, gazing into the mirror.

What he saw stole his breath away.

His tears were shimmering! They were sparkling as if they were made up of glitter and nothing else. Another one slipped down his cheek, leaving a burning sensation along his skin. He would have cried out again – had he not been so transfixed by the beauty of it all.

Slowly lifting his hand, he caught a tear on one finger, bringing it close to his face so he could inspect it.

He had no idea what was happening, some part of him was fascinated, another was scared. All he knew was what he held in his hands…

It was as though he was crying tears of pure starlight.

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
